Savage Sands
by Piscean Rubble
Summary: Nasir's return from Jerusalem proves less than peaceful. Read to see how his life is irreparably changed by a chain of bizarre events. Reviews most welcome!
1. Returning

Returning

The soft wind that lifted the hot desert sands carried with it no hint of the events in store for Nasir as he left Jerusalem. The clear, blue sky that illuminated the path northward should have indicated an easy return to camp. But it was not to be. Nasir was weary and as the clash of cold, hard steel rang across the sands, he wondered if his day could get any worse. He had been nearly killed in a duel earlier that day, handed a mediocre horse for pretending to be a slave-guide, and now this.

His opponent was fierce and strong. It appeared to Nasir that this fighter was Bedouin. He was dressed in long robes and his head was wrapped fully so only his eyes were visible. Those eyes flashed like flames trying to escape a fire pit. The Bedouin meant business and Nasir was just barely up to the challenge.

Nasir had been tossed from his horse with a blow that left him reeling. An unattended white stallion had distracted him when the Bedouin had come out of nowhere; a difficult maneuver in the middle of the desert. But Nasir had no time to solve the mystery; he would have to subdue his opponent first.

Their blades came together repeatedly. The fighters groaned and gnashed their teeth. Nasir was tiring of the business that was keeping him from returning to camp, to a warm bath, and a soft bed. _God! I wish he would just go back from wherever he came!_ As the Bedouin's sword came down from above, Nasir used his own as a shield. The fighters were within inches of one another and Nasir took this opportunity to knock his opponent to the ground. The Bedouin rolled and crouched like a wild cat. Nasir moved toward him but paused as a high pitched shriek surged from the Bedouin's mouth. Before Nasir knew what was happening, the determined fighter had mounted the white stallion and sped off across the desert. The circling dust hung around horse and rider like a cloak.

"Coward! We're not finished!!" Nasir shouted as he ran after them. The adrenaline that surged through his body was not allowing him to think clearly. When it finally became apparent to Nasir that his legs were no match for a stallion's, he dropped his sword and bent with his hands on his knees. _What am I doing? He's gone and I can go back to camp._ Nasir tiredly mounted the Christian's horse and, as he turned about, his eye caught the form of a burlap blanket lying in the sand nearby. _So that's where the Bedouin was hiding._ _But how did he know I was coming?_ Nasir looked to the sky as the sun dipped close to the horizon. "Please Allah, lay me an easy path."

--

The Saracen camp stretched across the valley, its thousands of tents blooming from the arid ground on which they stood. To Nasir it was a beautiful sight. His fellow soldiers bustled about, readying themselves for the oncoming darkness. Smoke from cook fires billowed up toward the hilltops creating a red haze in the setting sun. The smells of cooked meat teased Nasir's nostrils as he sat on the horse admiring the view. When he could no longer ignore the ache in his empty belly, he steered the horse steadily down the hillside.

Nasir's first stop had to be his Master's tent. Salah al-Din would want to know that he had returned. As he entered the tent his heart sank. Mullah Khaled was already inside and he and Salah al-Din were exchanging unpleasant looks. The Mullah had a talent for angering the Sultan. Nasir immediately wished he had stopped for a bite to eat first. His irritability would not be a good quality in this situation.

"I will hold you to that." The Mullah spoke with a threatening tone. Nasir, who had taken his place slightly behind the Mullah, rolled his eyes. Clearly his master had promised something. This was a dangerous move for Khaled had a memory like a steel trap. Even though Salah al-Din always kept his word, he tended to make flippant promises to the Mullah to bring a hasty end to their meeting.

"Good night, Mullah." The Sultan's dismissal was abrupt and forceful. The Mullah turned to leave and glared at Nasir on the way by. Nasir wanted to grab him in a head lock but resisted the temptation and instead glared back. His eyes followed the Mullah until he disappeared through the tent flaps and then Nasir turned to his Master.

Salah al-Din was obviously not in the mood for talking but looked relieved by Nasir's presence.

"Join me, my friend." The Sultan pointed to the chairs at his dinner table. When the two were seated and their plates filled by the slaves he looked to Nasir. "Any news?"

"Nothing of any significance." Nasir dared not complain about his day as the Sultan appeared tired and had his own problems to bear. The two sat in silence, enjoying their dinner and each other's company.

Soon the night would bring silence to the camp. Nasir would need his rest to deal with the surprises in store for him over the next few days.

--


	2. The Revealing

The Revealing

The noon day sun was cruel. The entire camp wilted under its heat. Tempers were high, the horses were agitated, and water seemed in short supply. Nasir sat in Salah al-Din's tent with the rest of the council. He could barely concentrate for the beads of sweat dripping into his eyes, and the current conversation was extremely dull.

The leader of a local Bedouin tribe was asserting his fighters' usefulness in the taking of Jerusalem. The council learned that the Bedouins had been following the army with hopes of joining the ranks. Salah al-Din was suspicious of small groups who wished to retain their independence from the army but vowed to fight in parallel with it.

"I cannot allow it." Salah al-Din spoke gently. "You must understand. Taking Jerusalem has to be a precise operation."

The Bedouin leader, whose face had been exposed for diplomacy, was clearly agitated. Nasir's boredom soon gave way to concern. He wiped his brow and kept a close eye on the body language of the leader and his companions, who had not entirely revealed their faces. The tension in the tent was rising.

"You don't think we can fight well enough for you." The leader challenged, his eyes narrowed. "You are pompous."

Nasir rose from his chair, hand on his sword. A comment like that would not normally go unpunished. Salah al-Din's eyes flashed but his voice remained calm.

"I do not doubt your abilities. The taking of Jerusalem has been carefully planned. I am certain of its outcome. The difficult part will be to protect the city from the returning Crusaders. There is a place for you and your soldiers in that capacity. Currently we require your patience."

The Bedouin nodded. A sigh of relief traveled like a wave through the tent. The leader rose and motioned for his companions to also rise. Nasir scanned the Bedouins' eyes carefully for he still felt on edge. Could the attack yesterday have been the work of these Bedouins - a display of skill? The attacker certainly had an abundance of proficiency. One by one he discounted them but then he noticed a slender figure standing a little behind all the rest, his eyes downcast. Nasir quickly moved in front of the man.

"Show your face!" he demanded.

"What is the meaning of this?" The Bedouin leader shouted.

"This man attacked me yesterday!" Nasir was incensed. This disheveled group of Bedouins was making a mockery of the greatest army that Islam had ever known. "Show yourself!!"

The soldier stood solidly, his eyes defying Nasir. Nasir looked to the leader, the leader looked to the soldier, and the soldier finally complied. He removed the cloth that covered his nose and mouth. Nasir took a step back.

"A woman?" Mullah Khaled sneered. "A worthy opponent, I'm sure!"

Snickers erupted amongst the council members. But Nasir didn't pay them any attention. His full attention was on the woman; for she was the most beautiful he'd ever seen.

--

Fazia Habib thrived on men's weaknesses. Mullah Khaled's underestimation was one of those weaknesses. She was as fierce as they came. The oldest of five daughters to a father who had prayed for sons, Fazia had set out to prove herself from an early age. She took up weapons as young as five and hid to watch the men train. She emulated their movements as she practiced in secret. At ten she towered over most of the boys her age. She began to rival all the men in her tribe in skill and agility by the time she entered her teens. As she grew, so did her determination and her boldness. Soon she was challenging the trained men to duels and if the men agreed to fight her, she often defeated them.

The leader of the Bedouin army could not afford to ignore Fazia, even though a woman had never fought with them before. She was one of the best fighters he had seen, a welcome addition to his small fighting force. But she had other uses as well. She was statuesque and could easily distract the enemy, if the need arose. She could set a trap so stealthily no one knew the wiser until they were caught in it.

Nasir was quickly becoming ensnared. He was captivated by her green eyes that shone like Peridot gemstones, her soft, moist lips, and her olive skin that glowed in the heat of the afternoon. He could have admired her for hours but he began to detect a low, menacing growl emanating from her throat. Before Nasir could react, Fazia had lunged at him and knocked him to the ground. As he fought to repel her, he was amazed by her strength. It took several of the Sultan's guards to pry her off.

As Nasir stood stunned by the events, his head-wrap askew, Mullah Khaled, wearing a sheepish grin, moved forward to indict the woman.

"Your actions are punishable by the law." He snapped.

Fazia, paying no heed to the Mullah, glared at Nasir and spit at the ground in front of him.

"Will you laugh at me now, you arrogant fool?" She struggled as the guards dragged her from the tent.

--


	3. A Woman Scorned

A Woman Scorned

Following the dispersal of the council, Nasir sat in the quiet company of his Master and the Mullah. He was completely bewildered. _Who the hell is she? I would know if I'd seen her before, surely!_

"Who is she, Nasir?" Salah al-Din echoed Nasir's thoughts.

"Master, I swear it, I do not know!"

"An animal. A demon, is what she is! No god-fearing woman would behave in such a manner!" The Mullah's self-righteousness grated on Nasir's nerves. But he had to agree that he had never met a woman who behaved in such a way.

"Perhaps you should find out what your offences are." The Sultan's suggestion was sincere.

"As soon as I gather my wits, I shall." Nasir's confusion was giving way to curiosity.

"I can accompany you, if you would feel more secure." The Mullah mocked.

"I feel safer with her than I do you." With that Nasir nodded to his Master and took his leave.

--

The guards had caged Fazia. She was crouched in a corner like a wild animal ready to spring should the door open. Nasir stood his distance. He couldn't be sure the iron bars would hold her. He regarded her closely and she watched him, her lips pulled into a sneer.

"Will you tell me, please, how I have offended you?" Nasir asked gently.

Fazia threw her head back and cackled. "You'll find no salvation here."

"Ah." Nasir paused. He tried to quell the anger rising in him. "You are an excellent fighter, but you are not a warrior. The man who dies at the hand of warrior knows the reason for his death." He hoped to appeal to some sense of honor she may have.

"Don't patronize me." She hissed. "You are no warrior either. Thousands have died under your sword and had no idea why."

"Not true. The directive of the Sultan's army has always been clear. Any man who challenges us combatively knows the reason for his death."

"Ha! You march through lands leaving a wake of destruction in your path. Did you ever stop to ask these men why they are challenging you? Do you even care that some hapless soul may just want to protect his land and water supply?" Fazia's face was flushed with anger.

"Our Sultan does not operate that way. He always meets first with the leaders of groups with grievances against him, like he did with your leader earlier today. I don't know where you heard your information, but it is a falsehood."

"The death of my father is not a falsehood!" Fazia growled.

"I killed your father?" Nasir thought he was beginning to understand.

"No." Fazia's word jolted him. "My father was killed five years ago when your great Sultan's soldiers attacked our small village. Our warriors had left for the day. All we had were untrained men to fight. You bastards slaughtered them, lined up the survivors, and then strutted back and forth choosing who would join you and whom you would leave to fend for themselves."

"You must be mistaken. Why would the Sultan have bothered with a small enclave?" Nasir was frustrated.

"Its no mistake. You were there." Fazia's eyes narrowed.

Nasir approached the iron bars. He looked directly into Fazia's eyes and in a low commanding voice he asked. "What did I do to you?"

"With a flick of your hand, and an arrogant chuckle, you sloughed off the value a woman could add to your ranks."

"I laughed at you? This is why you're determined to kill me?" Nasir was incredulous.

"In my foolish youth, I wanted to join your great Sultan's army. But because I was a woman you gave me no consideration. Now you see the kind of fighter you passed up."

"Indeed." Nasir couldn't help but smile. "There is more than skill required to be in this army. Personal vendettas have to be put aside and you fight only for the Sultan, without question."

"Don't be so condescending! You sloughed me off because I was a girl!" Fazia's voice was reaching a high pitch. Tears welled in her eyes and she moved to the back of the cage and turned her face away from him.

"I was wrong to have done so." Nasir felt a pang of remorse. "There is seldom an opportunity for a woman to fight with the army. In fact, I can't think of an occasion when one has. Generally women are not trained for combat, but then you do not fit into any generality. Five years ago I may have been the kind of man who laughed at the thought of a female fighter. But I have learned much from my Master, The Sultan. Assistance to our cause can come from many unexpected places. Forgive me."

To Nasir's disappointment no response was forthcoming.

--


	4. The Challenge

The Challenge

That night Nasir lay awake in his bed, staring into the darkness. This woman had, in nearly an instant, touched every emotion he was capable of feeling. She was so many things, beautiful yet beastly, intelligent yet impulsive, and passionate yet cold. And still he didn't know her name!

Nasir did not see the situation improving for her. At the very best, she would be made a slave. But given her abilities, she would have to be constantly guarded. What could he do for her? The offences she committed were against him. He could absolve her of the charges. But, then, he didn't think that would set well with her. She obviously wasn't looking for an easy way out. At that moment Nasir decided the best way to punish and to appease the Bedouin woman was to let her fight him. He would have to be sure to win!

--

As dawn broke and the muezzin called the camp to prayer, Nasir dressed, grabbed two swords, and left his tent for the prisoner side of the camp. Normally, the prisoners would be invited to pray as well, but Nasir suspected that no one would deem it safe to open the Bedouin woman's cage.

He was right. Fazia lay sleeping on the floor of her cage, her long, shapely body stretching the length of it. Nasir stood to admire her while he could. She looked peaceful in her sleep.

"Bedouin!" he whispered finally. "Bedouin! Wake up!"

"I am not a Bedouin." Fazia replied as though she had been aware of his presence for some while but hadn't stirred. "I'm Syrian. I only fight with the Bedouins."

"What's your name?" Nasir whispered.

"Fazia Habib." She was standing now and looking at him coldly. It didn't take long for her to awaken fully. He could see she was already restless.

"Well, then, Fazia Habib, I am called Imad ad-Din. Shall we?" Nasir asked abruptly while holding up the two swords.

Fazia snickered. "Gathered some courage overnight, did you?"

Nasir smiled. "Always ready, aren't you?"

"Always." No smiled touched Fazia's lips.

Nasir slowly opened the cage door and stepped back to release Fazia. To his surprise she didn't spring from the cage as he had expected her to but walked purposefully through the door and out onto the grounds.

"We should go a little further out so that we don't disturb prayer. Come with me."

Fazia walked toward him, her eyes held in a suspicious glare. "Where are we going?"

"Over there." Nasir and Fazia walked a distance from the camp before they had found a good level area for the duel. Nasir handed Fazia her sword and they wasted no time in beginning.

Fazia attacked first, her sword coming down swift and strong. Nasir immediately began wondering if this was really a wise idea. Their blades clashed over and over, steel against steel. The duelers groaned and grunted, pushing themselves beyond their own capacities. The duel was like an awkward dance, the dancers moving together, and yet working against one another.

Fazia drove Nasir backward, thrashing and swiping with her sword. Her agility mesmerized him. Suddenly, she slashed his leg with a low sideways thrust and he stumbled, gripped with pain. But Nasir's warrior instinct surfaced and as Fazia struck again he stopped her with a counter strike. The pain in his leg angered him, and he no longer felt inhibited by the fact that she was a woman. She _would_ kill him if he faltered again.

Nasir was only a few inches taller than Fazia, but his body mass was much greater. Now using his full strength he was quickly overpowering her. He brought his sword down on her, and she raised her sword as a shield but succumbed under his force. As she fell to the ground, Nasir put his blade to her throat.

"Do it!" she snarled. "Do it, coward!"

Nasir started to laugh. "Its very tempting." He retorted through gritted teeth. "But I shall not."

"You bastard!" She still held her sword and attempted to raise it against him. He stepped down on her wrist.

"You are beaten. Surely you know that." Nasir was exasperated.

"I am not dead! Only when I am dead will you have defeated me!" She cried.

Nasir stood back from her. "Get up!" He shouted.

Fazia rose and readied her sword. As the two lunged at one another, she struck Nasir on the side of the head. His knees buckled and he collapsed to the ground like a massive stone. All was darkness.

--


	5. Contretemps

Contretemps

A bright light penetrated Nasir's eyelids. As he opened his eyes he was struck by the full power of the morning sun. Above him, nothing interrupted the blueness of the sky. Suddenly he became aware of a weight upon him. He couldn't move his head but adjusted his eyes to see what the weight was. It was Fazia. She had straddled his midsection and was looking down at him with her luminous green eyes. Her black hair had been freed from the wrap and it cascaded down her over her shoulders.

"You are not dead then?" Fazia asked as she moved her face closer to his. Nasir looked at her in surprise. He felt trapped, claustrophobic almost. _What is she going to do to me?_ He started to breathe faster and his eyes grew wild. But then she caressed his face with her hand. He caught her scent, sweet, alluring.

"Is this what you do to every man before you kill him? Lure him into your feminine trap and then slash his throat when he's nearly mad with desire?" Nasir muttered softly.

"Shhhh!" she soothed.

Suddenly her lips were upon his. Nasir's eyes were wide with amazement. But her lips were soft and supple and moist. They moved over his with ease. Her hair touched his cheek. His thoughts became muddled. _Well, if I am to die now, I could think of worse ways of going._ He closed his eyes and succumbed to her advances.

As he placed his hands on her hips, she lowered her body so it was lying on his. _I am going mad. This could not be the same beastly woman who was determined to kill me not moments ago! Perhaps I'm in paradise._

"I love you, Imad ad-Din." She said softly.

This was too much for Nasir. He rolled Fazia onto her back. Still holding her in his arms, he looked down at her.

"What?" he asked indignantly.

She looked up at him with softness in her features he had never seen before. She repeated, "I love you."

Nasir's head was throbbing and he was completely baffled.

"You, who, in recent memory, wanted to kill me? You love me? You have a strange way of showing your affections!"

"I loved you the first time I saw you, in my village. I wanted to leave with you. But you laughed in my face." A tear rolled down her cheek.

Everything became clear to Nasir at that moment. He had left her heartbroken and insulted by his callousness. Now he was humbled.

"I never said I wanted to kill you, Imad." She whispered.

Nasir raised an eyebrow as he looked down into her beautiful face. "No, you never did." He smiled.

Fazia grabbed his neck and gently pulled him closer to her. "Imad." She sighed.

"Fazia Habib, you're a dangerous woman." Nasir couldn't help but sound impressed. He pressed his lips to hers and held her tightly. She responded in kind, her whole body spoke of a long, deep-seeded desire.

--

To an onlooker it would have appeared as though Nasir and Fazia were wrestling. The two rolled passionately on the ground. The prison guards, who had noticed Fazia was missing and had gone to find her, took one look and decided that Nasir was being attacked again. As they approached, Fazia was on top of Nasir looking down at him again. The surrounding area looked like a battleground, blood mixed with sand. Nasir's wounds had bloodied his clothing and he looked extremely worse for wear. Neither Fazia nor Nasir had noticed the guards.

One of the guards put his sword to Fazia's neck and she froze. "Bedouin! Rise!" shouted the guard. Fazia slowly stood up. Her robes had been loosened and one of her shoulders was bare. Her long hair glistened in the sun.

"What do you think you were doing, whore?" the other guard grabbed her arm aggressively. Fazia sneered at him.

"No!" Shouted Nasir trying to rise but stumbling due to both of his injuries.

"Sir, are you alright?" The guard holding the sword on Fazia sounded concerned.

"I'm fine. Release her." Nasir said quietly as he stood.

"But sir!" the guards protested together.

Nasir looked at Fazia as he spoke to the guard. "Do it now! And send a message to the Bedouin leader that his fighter is ready to return."

"But…"

"Now." Nasir was firm.

The guard hesitantly turned to go and left Nasir and Fazia alone again. Fazia straightened her robes, retrieved her head wrap and quickly covered her hair and her face except for her eyes. As she looked at Nasir, her eyes sparkled.

Nasir knew that he could not ask her to stay. He wasn't really sure he wanted to either. She would never be a woman to sit waiting for him to return from battle and to provide him with a warm meal upon his return. She was a wild spirit that needed to be freed.

"Come with me." Nasir smiled and waited for her to walk beside him and the two returned to the camp.

--


	6. Departure

Departure

Salah al-Din looked displeased but not angry, when Nasir entered his tent with Fazia. His dark eyes were set squarely on the two.

"You missed prayer this morning." He was gently reproachful but didn't seem alarmed at Nasir's appearance.

"I am sorry, Master. I felt it necessary to resolve the problem with the prisoner."

"During prayer?"

"I thought it the best time. My approach was a little…unorthodox."

"I see. And the matter has been resolved?" Salah al-Din didn't change his facial expression.

"Yes. She will return to her leader immediately." Nasir assured him.

Looking to Fazia, Salah al-Din asked, "I trust you will not need any more of Nasir's time?"

"No, Sultan." She bowed respectively.

"Good." Salah al-Din turned to some papers that he held in his hand. Nasir and Fazia taking his cue took their leave.

The camp was abuzz with activity. Attack of the Castle at Karak had become necessary due to the belligerent and horrific acts of Reynald de Chatillon. Nasir hadn't been privy to the latest news due to missing prayer and early meetings with Salah al-Din. Not many had noticed Nasir's absence but as Mullah Khaled approached Nasir and Fazia, it quickly became apparent to Nasir that the Mullah had noticed.

"Do you have a good reason for missing prayer this morning?" the Mullah hissed.

"Yes, I do." Nasir responded abruptly.

"Being?"

"Being none of your business." Nasir replied coldly.

The Mullah looked haughtily at Fazia but said nothing. In a moment he turned quickly and sped off toward Salah al-Din's tent. Nasir was relieved at his speedy departure but concerned about the conversation that would be taking place in the Sultan's tent.

Fazia touched Nasir's arm with a gloved hand as a lone Bedouin rider entered the camp trailing a white stallion. He stopped in front of Nasir and Fazia but did not dismount. Nasir immediately recognized the stallion as the one from the desert. Fazia quickly mounted her horse and began heading out of the camp. Suddenly she turned, "Imad ad-Din, stay alert when you're traveling alone in the desert! You never know what might be waiting for you there!" With that she turned and sped off.

Nasir smiled to himself as he watched her go. His mind was still reeling from the absurdity of the day and of this women's behavior. Nevertheless, everything about her he found irresistibly intriguing and he was not likely to forget her. Finally, the two riders were shrouded in a ghostly curtain of circling dust as they moved toward the hills. After watching for a moment, Nasir turned and moved reluctantly toward Salah al-Din's tent.


	7. From Hattin to Dark

From Hattin to Dark

The battle of Hattin was a brutal end to King Guy's serge into Saracen territory. The Crusaders had foolishly marched into the trap of an angry serpent. Salah al-Din struck without mercy. The battle was a display of Saracen strength both militarily and strategically. The pompous and murderous ways of Reynaud de Chatillon and King Guy were stomped out like a camp fire in a sandstorm. In the wake, the butchered meat of Crusader corpses was scattered to the vultures. Not a soul was left standing save the King and Reynaud.

As the dust settled, Fazia Habib knelt as if someone had knocked the wind out of her. She had heard of the power of the Saracen army but had never witnessed it first hand. It had left her nearly dazed with excitement and a strange sort of fascinated horror. For a day, Fazia had followed the Crusaders watching them falter in their steps – weak and weary from being away from water. She knew they would be slaughtered but this was more than she could ever have imagined. She had not looked to Allah for years, but today she thanked him.

So as not to be detected by Saracen scouts and outlooks, Fazia had hidden carefully in the hills that overlooked the valley in which the battle took place. She watched closely the combat tactics – the way the Crusaders had been encircled by the Saracen cavalry. The Crusaders were easily overwhelmed and confused. She watched the Saracen fighters – she could tell the warriors from the mere slaves or lower echelon. The latter group fought hard but without much skill and lacked adequate armour. In a regular battle – one where the opposing sides were evenly matched - those without armour were the first to be killed. They were, in many ways, expendable.

Fazia also kept her eye on Nasir. He was easy to spot – on his horse beside his master, Salah al-Din. He sat, decked proudly in fine armour and shouting orders as given by his master. Fazia noted the irony of his strength and subservience. His unflinching loyalty to Salah al-Din made him appear strong – almost untouchable like God's right-hand man. She knew then, as she had discovered so many years ago, why she could not let this man out of her mind. Why he, of all the men she had ever encountered, was the only one she had ever allowed to touch her.

As the stench of death began to waft and creep into every corner and crevice of the surrounding hills, Fazia took her leave. The Saracens were returning to camp and she was eager to see the fate of King Guy and the monster, Reynaud. She gracefully climbed the rocks to higher ground where her white stallion awaited her. Behind her the circling vultures blackened the skies and their cries reached a sickening pitch as they celebrated the meal they were about to receive.

--

The Saracen camp was magnificent in its size and organization. But it was not glamorous. Travel-worn burlap tents bore a shabby appearance and provided little shelter to their inhabitants. Many of the soldiers appeared to be without tents, their blankets surrounding camp fires. In contrast, the huge, white Sultan's tent stood out like the last patch of mountain snow in spring. It was well guarded and there appeared to be a lot of activity around it.

Fazia continued to watch from a wide perimeter around the camp. She was determined not to miss any actions taken by Salah al-Din toward his prisoners. Finally she found a location that enabled a view of the tent and just as she did so, she witnessed the quick and grisly death of Reynaud. Salah al-Din had not wasted any time. With agility and strength usually attributed to someone younger, the Sultan struck the already faltering figure with his sword. Reynaud's body fell, as would the body of any other man. Despite his monstrous behaviour, he was still human and still capable of dying.

Fazia was transfixed by the scene. She was so engrossed, in fact, that she was unaware that she was being approached. Suddenly she was being pulled from her horse by a powerful, unseen assailant. No matter how much she struggled, she could not free herself from the grasp.

"Not this time, Sharmoota! There's no escape for you now." An unfamiliar male voice hissed in her ear.

"Reveal yourself, you coward!" Fazia screamed and tried desperately to turn to see who it was that was holding her, but it was of no use. She was practically immobilized by his hold. Without warning, he struck her from behind leaving her dazed. While she was subdued he gagged her and a rough burlap bag was placed over her head. Her entire body was tied with a thick, unyielding rope. She was then roughly tossed over the back of a horse and secured to it. As the horse began to gallop, Fazia gasped, barely able to breathe, while her stomach took the pounding of the horse's hind quarters. Pain surged through her like huge electric currents paralysing her to the point that she was barely conscious. She was suddenly so terrified and in such agony that she couldn't think clearly but for one thought - _Who the hell is doing this to me? _

The horse pounded on while its rider was completely silent. The heat of the day provided Fazia with further torment. She felt as though she were wrapped in a thick and suffocating cocoon of woollen blankets. Her breathing became more and more laboured and she struggled desperately to stay conscious. Fazia's only desire now was to face her aggressors when the bag was removed from her head. She wanted to see the eyes of the man who dared treat her this way. But it was of no use. Finally, her body betrayed her mind. She fell limp and all went dark.


End file.
